This is War
by Kendall N.S
Summary: The TARDIS keeps landing in the strangest of patterns. Hermione Granger grows suspicious of a blue box that seems to follow them. What happens when the Doctor finds himself and Amy thrust in the secret and huge wizarding war of the century?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Own Nothing_

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><p><em><strong>A warning to the people<strong>_

_**The Good and The Evil **_

_-30 Seconds to Mars_

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

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><p>The sound of scrapping metal mixed with wind broke through the silence of the tall forest. Slowly, a blue police box materialized and crushed down on the leaves. The noise eased and the door was flung open, a strange man in a tweed jacket and a bowtie took a deep sniff through his nose.<p>

"Late twentieth century England!" the man announced into the blue box, the script that ran across the top read 'Police Call Box', "and it is…" He took a piece of bark and nibbled on it, "…late September and close to rain."

"That'll explain this weather," a ginger woman complained as she stomped out of the police box. She was dressed in an orange sweater and a denim mini skirt over thick stockings; she was hugging herself. "It's absolutely _freezing_! What is it with the TARDIS and England lately, Doctor?"

The young woman had an excellent point. Lately, his old girl had taken them to the strangest of places: in front of a café, near a bridge that went over a river, and the charred remains of what had been a house.

The Doctor swallowed a mouthful of air and swished it around in his mouth before swallowing, "Well, that certainly is strange." He walked toward a clearing, licked his finger, and held it up.

"What is it, Doctor?"

He put the finger up to his lips to silence her. Then he pulled out the alien device known as the Sonic Screwdriver and scanned over the clearing before raising the handle to eye level, "Interesting, Very interesting."

He pointed the screwdriver at the seemingly empty place and the air shivered. The blurry form of a short person pointing something straight back at him became visible.

"Identify yourself!" a voice buzzed from the form.

The Doctor blinked and pulled out his psychic paper, "I'm an officer from the ministry of—"

He was cut off by a flash of red light that sent him hurtling into a tree several meters behind him.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" a distinctive female voice rang out, his body completely stiffened.

"What d'you—" Amy ran at the bushy haired girl with a tree branch grasped in both hands.

"_Expeliarmus_!" The branch flew from Amy's hands, "_Incarcerous_!"

Ropes flew from the end of the girl's stick and wrapped around Amy from her shoulders to her ankles. The ginger let out an angry shriek as she fell over.

"I don't know who you think you are, but—" the stick pointed at her throat.

"Who are you?" the bushy haired girl asked, her voice distinct with an upper London accent, "You tried to attack me with a branch."

"You—! _You're_ attacking me with a stick!" Amy spat back, leaning away from the point of the stick.

Something changed in the girl's eyes, "You're a muggle… but how did you get out here…?" The girl leaned in closer to Amy as if she were observing some strange phenomenon.

"No, I'm human, not whatever a muggle is!" Amy exclaimed, then murmured something under her breath about aliens while wriggling, "Untie me!"

The girl scoffed—obviously hearing the word 'alien' was wrong in her sense—then turned to the clearing as if she heard something. She listened for a moment.

Then she broke the moment of silence, "I'm sorry about this."

At those words, the Doctor almost shivered—if he could have—they were all too familiar. He used to say that whenever he couldn't save someone or it was completely hopeless. The memories swarmed him briefly and he blinked them away. Now wasn't the time, no, no it wasn't.

With a blast of that girl's stick, Amy stopped moving. Well, he could at least see the rise and fall of the ropes that bound her chest—so she wasn't dead. That at least put the momentary panic to ease as he watched the bushy haired girl walk toward him. He tried to stretch his jaw slightly and found it in use. Whatever the girl had done to freeze him, it wasn't going to last long. The once dead tongue in his mouth curled and tasted the roof of his mouth. He pursed his lips, then allowed himself to go back to a seemingly-frozen state.

"Now who are you…" there was a shadow cast over the upper part of her face.

Just as she was leaning closer to inspect his face, he gave her a winning smile.

"I'm the Doctor and you would be?"

It was his turn to black out at the crack of a stick.

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><p><strong>I wanted to one of these for a long time, so review? Tell me how it is? The one who guesses when this is set, gets a chapter dedicated to them. :D Oh, and review please~!<br>**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Own Nothing_

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><p><em><strong><span>Dedicated to CrazyMacky<span>**_

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><p><em><strong>This is war<strong>_  
><em><strong> To the soldier, the civilian<strong>_  
><em><strong> The martyr, the victim<strong>_  
><em><strong> This is war<strong>_

_****__-30 Seconds to Mars_

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

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><p>Amy Pond slowly woke with a grunt of discomfort. She blinked drearily and swallowed. Her throat felt as though someone had forced sand paper down her throat. Memories of before her black out came back in a rush. A bushy haired girl with a dark shadow over her eyes. Though there was that dangerous, reflective, glint.<p>

Automatically, her wrists flexed—her fingers curling inwards. The ropes weren't there anymore, but something was keeping her bound that wasn't chaffing her skin. Oh God, she was going to be absolutely covered in bruises thanks to that bushy haired twat. The thought made her growl and twist her feet. She was bound down there too. Whatever it was wasn't metal. Probably some sort of alien technology.

Then her eyes snapped open and adjusted to the light that came from a few hanging lanterns. The walls looked as thin as fabric—in fact they were fabric. Was she in a tent? Her brow pulled together as she looked around, certainly the roomiest tent she'd ever been in.

"Ah, you're awake." A masculine voice interrupted her thoughts and a face was quickly matched to it. A young man with a strong jaw, sharp green eyes, and terribly mussed black hair. It pointed in every direction. There was a hint of caution in his gaze, but he also looked a bit worried. That's when she noticed the green and yellow bruises that swelled up on his cheek and neck, a grotesque purple one on his forearm. Several cuts and scratches littered all over his skin and his split lip looked particularly painful. "Would you like some water? I've taken some of that potion before, it's foul."

Was that why her throat was giving her issues? She nodded and raised her wrists, wagging her hands around as if it were a hint.

"Sorry, can't do that, not right now anyway." He said apologetically, walking down a corridor of the tent. (Tent's have corridors?) Then he came back with a cool glass of water and a straw. The boy set the glass in her grip and she lifted it to her lips, sucking on the straw.

Amy sighed in relief, "Ah, now that feels better, anywho, where's the Doctor?"

"The who?" He blinked several times, confused. Then something registered. "Oh, that man—Hermione's taking care of him."

"What?" She bristled.

"Er, are you alright?" He asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Just peachy, after all, it's perfectly normal to be tied up after blacking out from some girl's stick."

"Stick?" Another flash of recognition, "Oh, she was right again. You're a mu—I mean, a normal person."

"That I am!"

"Then why are you here?" He tilted his head to the side. "All the way out here."

Now that had the ginger stumped. Her tongue stuck on the fact that normal people weren't supposed to know about the whole Time Traveling thing. Then again, these weren't normal people. They used bloody sticks for weapons for god's sake, so they had to be some kind of humanoid alien.

His gaze had drifted a bit from her gaze and toward her neck, his mouth twisting into a grimace, "Merlin… would you like me to take care of that?"

Instantly her hand went to the spot he was staring at and she winced, "Depends on the stuff you're usin'. I've got a few allergies." That was a lie, but she didn't want some weird alien goo in her human flesh.

The boy chuckled, "Don't worry; you won't be allergic to this." He raised his stick and she flinched away, eyeing it warily. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

Before she could snap back at him about how she didn't know him and didn't trust him, he pointed his wand at the sore part of her neck, "_Episkey_."

The wound became warm, then pleasantly cool. Amy blinked a few times before touching her neck again. It wasn't sore. The wound was gone.

"Who are you—? What are you?"

He hesitated, "Well, since you did appear in a big blue box, I guess we can trade secrets." She liked the sparkle of humor in his eye. "I'm a Wizard and my name is Harry Potter."

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><p>The Doctor sluggishly woke up from the deep sleep he was forced into. Wait, he was asleep? He didn't need to be asleep. Sleep was for those who needed to heal brain synapses and re-energize while they were unconscious. He didn't need that. He didn't even dream, so he couldn't watch anything entertaining either. Not even memories danced before his eyes during that sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he tried to sleep. Perhaps when Rose had suggested it. Or Sarah Jane?<p>

He pursed his mouth and opened his eyes, automatically sitting up. Ah, he was bound, but not by rope. It was a harnessed psychic energy that kept him from moving. If only he could reach his Sonic Screwdriver. That would be very useful.

"So I was right…" That feminine voice came through and he looked up, feeling his tongue lodge itself into the back of his throat. The sun gave an ethereal glow about the girl, her frizzy brown hair gave a bit of a halo. Her eyes were such a light brown they almost seemed golden, though they were harsh. Her skin was mucked up with dirt, bruises, and wounds. "The potion didn't last long at all on you. Just like the spell."

"Potions? Spells?" The Doctor's voice came out in a bit of a rasp and she handed him a glass of water with a straw, he swallowed gratefully.

"Yes, and you're obviously not a muggle. It took quite some time to stretch the protection spell over your rubbish blue box. It radiates too much…" she paused, rubbing her chin for the right word.

"Psychic energy," He offered and she gave him a strange look, her face pinching into a shrewd expression, "And she's not rubbish—"

"Right," She said, "I've only heard that phrase used in books about time travel and dimensional transfer. And you're certainly not human."

"And how do you know that?" He grinned, liking the speedy process at which she was piecing things together. It saved a lot of stupid questions and explaining. Then the part about there being books about time travel and dimensional transfer puzzled him. He had seen almost every book in the universe that was published up until this time, and further than that really, but none of the books about Time Travel had ever talked about psychic energy.

"Your heartbeat."

He looked down and saw that his shirt was partially unbuttoned, then back at her. "And you're not very human either. Well, you certainly look human. Perhaps humanish. Or maybe you are human and there is just a mutation or you're evolving. And then there's—" The Doctor's gaze drifted around the room they were in, instantly realizing where he was, "We're in a tent? A very large tent, or is it just bigger on the inside?"

She nodded and sat down near his bed, her gaze still wary.

"Amazing," He murmured in reverence, "your kind has managed to harness psychic energy to create a dimension of your own to live in. I bet this tent looks rather small and dingy on the outside."

"Just like your Police Box," She said, then her eyes widened as if some sort of revelation came to her.

"Yes, just like my police bo—wait! She's not dingy!" He snapped as she pulled a purse out from under her shirt, it was hanging around her neck.

"Two hearts, Time and Dimension Traveling police box…" She murmured, as if he wasn't there, "It's all making sense." She plunged her hand into her purse until it reached her shoulder. The Doctor was ecstatic. A purse dimension in a tent dimension which was in the current dimension! And the two dimensions were created by mutated, or evolved, humans who could channel psychic energy through their sticks.

Then she pulled out a book with an elaborate and beautiful circular language written across it, there was an English translation written across the bottom.

"That—That is…" He wanted to reach out and grab the book, his eyes wide. He didn't remember anything of the sort being on Earth. "How…How did you get that?" He hunched over and if his hands weren't bound they would be rolling over each other.

"You can read it." She looked shocked for a moment, before setting the book down in her lap, "Oh Merlin… that woman was right."

For once, the Doctor only had half a clue what was going on in the conversation.

"Who are you?"

She pressed her lips together, "Hermione, Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger, would you mind taking off these binds? Curious these binds are, made up completely of psychic energy—"

"Magic," She corrected, "they're made up of and created by magic, Doctor."

So she did remember his name, he gave a pleased smile, "There's no such thing as magic."

Hermione rolled her eyes and murmured something under her breath. There was a loud rustling and Amy ran into that part of the tent, absolutely excited and livid at the same time.

"Harry!" Hermione called out and the Doctor's eyes lit up as he tried to peer around the fretting Amy. Then he remembered the names and what was familiar about this. From the future. About human psychic manipulators, but said manipulators had different names for everything that he found. They had mystical names in place of his scientific ones.

"She's not dangerous!" Harry's voice rang out from another part of the tent.

"Harry? As in Harry Potter?" The Doctor would have hit himself by now for not remembering in the first place.

"You know him, Doctor?" Amy asked distractedly as she tried to pry the binds from his wrists. Hermione had ignored her shrieked demands.

"He's a celebrity in this world, Amy, it's hard not to know him. Especially now." His gaze met Hermione's. "What's the date?"

Hermione flicked her wand and the date drew out in the air.

_September 31, 1997 _

"So… you're still in the middle of the war."

She nodded, flicking her wand again—the binds on the Doctor's ankles and wrists disappearing, "Which is why you need to leave."

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><p><strong>I know this probably seems like a slow chapter, but we can't rush into everything, now can we? Also, the dedication goes to this reviewer because the one that got the most specific answer right was an anonymous reviewer. I don't mind anonymous reviewers at all, but if you want a dedication, then you should get an account. Please review~! <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

_Own Nothing_

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><p><strong><em>It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie<em>**  
><strong><em> The moment to live and the moment to die<em>**  
><strong><em> The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight<em>**

_-30 Seconds to Mars_

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

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><p>"Which is why we must leave?" The Doctor exclaimed, following Hermione Granger outside of the tent. She was trying too hard to ignore him. The line of her mouth pressed tighter to keep herself from talking to him. But her nerves were frayed raw and she barely had enough concentration to put up extra protection spells.<p>

Which was a little harder than usual since she had resolutely squared her jaw. Luckily she had a hand at nonverbal spells.

"Why do you want me to leave so badly? I can help you!" He said, gesticulating wildly.

That's when she lost her concentration. Raw sparks came from the end of her wand. She rounded on him, her eyes dark with anger and frustration. "How?"

"I could take you and Harry into my machine and keep you safe till the war tides over. We could go across the universe, go through history with spectacular hats and little cakes with ball bearings!" He took a step toward her, into her space, and looked directly into her eyes. "Is that what you want me to say? To offer? Because I could. I could take you and Harry away from this nightmare. What would you say to that?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line and stared at him, thinking very hard on what she was about to say. For some reason, this made the Doctor more wary than the mindless anger of Donna or Amy.

"You knew about this war, but you're not a wizard—or even from Earth for that matter. You know about this war, you know how it ends. You probably even know the prophecy." She swallowed down the stinging insults she wanted to hurl at him. "So you know that Harry…you know his position. You know why he's famous. So you can't possibly think that anything will change. What happens when you drop us off again? We continue where we left off, oh wait, we'll have to find them a million bloody time faster than before because we'll have even less time!"

"That's exactly it!" The Doctor took another step forward, "Time! We have all of the time in the world. All of time and space at my disposal and a clever girl like you is willing to turn that down?"

"Because I have my priorities in order!" Hermione snapped back, matching his step forward, "And I already know the dangers of time travel even if an almighty alien like yourself doesn't mind messing around with flexible events. But you of all people should at least understand why you have to leave!"

"And why's that?" He was glaring down at her, there was hardly an inch between the two.

"Because you have hardly a clue what you're doing! You landed in a forest accidentally, therefore you can't even pilot your own machine. And—And you'll leave! You'll leave because you can't stand living like this, because we may be evolved, but we are still human, because you'll get bored with your little pet project! And then you'll—then you'll leave when we need you the most." Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. "You'll leave and not even care what happens to us when you do."

"Hermione," the Doctor started raising a hand to tilt her chin up so that her down cast gaze would meet his, "I would never do that."

For a moment the anger in her gaze wavered and he caught something: the look of someone truly vulnerable. So full of trust, honesty, and love. Someone who was torn so easily from a belief in someone or something that the pain resonated. Then, it was gone. The hard resolution of anger was back. She pushed his hand away and took a step back.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," She whispered, her voice harsh, "but a man coming clear out of nowhere—wanting to help Harry and me. It's a little too good to be true. Though you don't work for-for... I don't believe you. So… just leave."

She gave him as stern of a glare as she could, before averting her gaze and walking away from him.

The Doctor looked as though he wanted to pursue her, make her believe in him. Never before had someone told him so blatantly that they didn't trust in him. Didn't believe in him. It came so naturally with his past companions that it was shocking to find someone who didn't. He tore his gaze away from her back and made his way to the tent.

"Doctor, how come you never told me about magic?" Amy immediately asked the moment he walked into the tent, she was sitting in a chair nursing a cup of tea. Harry was in a chair near her, but mostly leaning against the table—turning a rock over and over between his fingers with a slightly irritated stare. His round glasses were at the very tip of his nose.

"I have told you about it before, just in different terms," the Doctor said, pushing his fringe back, "They say magic, I say psychic energy."

"Well then how come you haven't told me about witches an' Wizards?" She raised her brows, "I mean, we're still in England for God's sake! I didn't know there was somethin' so interesting so close to home." Her gaze landed on Harry with that little smile of hers and his cheeks reddened slightly, then coughed awkwardly.

"I didn't know they were here either," the Doctor shrugged, trying to bite back his pride at admitting that he didn't know something, "the closest I came to meeting them was when Martha and I met Carrionites."

Harry grimaced, "I've studied those, nasty buggers, but what are they doing in these parts?"

"You mean what were they doing in these parts." The Doctor corrected him, "We were a good ways back in time."

"Yeah, sure," Harry waved it off, "I mean what would they be doing in Britain? Textbook says they're only native to Russia and Canada. And they're usually called Hags."

The Doctor came close to Harry with a curious look, "Who in the world would want to write about Carrionites?"

"How would I know?" Harry leaned back, as if he could avoid the intensity in the man's gaze.

"You wouldn't…" The Doctor trailed off thoughtfully, his gaze flickering to the lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead. "Though you would know…where we are in this war. So if you wouldn't mind telling me that… I'd be very grateful."

Harry blinked a few times in uncertainty, the Doctor was a tad close for comfort. Said man moved back a bit. Then the boy who lived told him in short what was going on. Amy and the Doctor were plenty attentive to what he said. Amy had completely forgotten her cup of tea as she stared at the young man. When he finished, no one said anything. He hadn't even told them the full story, and no one expected him to, but this part was particularly unexpected to the pair.

"And you're sure there isn't anything we could possibly do to help?" Amy asked, leaning toward Harry. Her brow creased in pity, worry, and concern. Very briefly, Harry saw the likes of his girlfriend Ginny and her mum Mrs. Weasley in her brown eyes and his gaze softened.

Before he could answer, Hermione stepped back into the tent with her eyelids lowered half way—exhaustion lining her face. "Harry, where's the pepper-up potion? I've got guard duty tonight." She gave him a dim smile before floating past him, not noticing Amy and the Doctor. Either that or she was simply very good at ignoring them.

"Hermione," Harry got up and stood in front of her, taking her shoulders in his hands, "you've got to sleep."

"I'm fine," She murmured, blinking a few times and giving him a pointed look, "now just tell me where the potion is."

They shared a look, then he sighed. "Fine, but…" He reached around her neck and the Doctor almost stood up to interrupt, then he saw the chain in both of Harry's hands. With a gentle pull, Harry had a locket hanging down from a long chain come out from under Hermione's collar. The change was almost noticeable.

Hermione rolled her shoulders back and a light hum came from her mouth.

The Doctor automatically reached into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver, then realized that it wasn't there.

"My screwdriver!" He exclaimed, patting his jacket and pockets, as if he had misplaced it and whirling around—like he could find it just about anywhere in the tent. "You took my screwdriver!"

Hermione blinked at him with a raised brow, as if just realizing that he and Amy were still there.

"So that's what this thing is." Harry said, pulling it from one of his front jean pockets, "It doesn't look like a screwdriver."

The Doctor quickly traipsed over and snatched his beloved sonic away, then scanned the locket wearily. He nearly jumped a foot in the air. "What….why do you humans have that?" He licked his lips nervously and glared at the locket as if it had stabbed him with a pencil. "That….that isn't supposed to be here, no it isn't. How in the world would you two manage to…."

"We didn't make it," Hermione answered immediately, "The person who started this war made six of them. Horcruxes. And we're hunting them down."

"Made them?" The Doctor asked incredulously, inching closer to Hermione, "Who could possibly want to make them? And be able to make them in the first place….it takes more than just psychic energy and murder to make a….a horcrux. It's…"

"We know," Harry cut him off, not wanting to be reminded, "It's dark magic."

"Not really, just to you because you lot have to murder to do it," the Doctor waved him off quickly, "Humans don't have enough psychic energy by themselves to split off and place part of their soul, which is why it's so unusual. No, Horcruxes are completely alien to you."

"You mean there's a race of sentient beings that murder and tear their soul apart?" Amy asked, disgust twisting her pretty face.

"No, they don't murder, that's the point I'm making here, Amy!" The Doctor snapped, once again, gesticulating wildly, "This race, they have enough psychic energy for four or five humans! They split their soul apart because it is so vast that it could not possibly stay inside of one vessel. It was an adaptational evolutionary manipulation. One of the side effects of it is a long life and the pieces of the soul age separately and die off one by one so that the being doesn't go insane with such age. Humans were never meant to get a hold of this physiological standing!"

His babbling began to go off into tangents of nonsense. Hermione and Harry tried speaking up, but were over ridden by his words. Hermione, though, was fascinated. She absorbed his words like a sponge and understood almost everything he said. The questions in her mind were bubbling up to the surface, but he never stayed quiet enough to listen.

Then Amy grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a rough shaking, "Doctor, calm down. In English and slowly."

"But that was English," He began to protest, "And you can understand me just fine because of the TARDIS translation circuits—"

"You know what I meant!" Amy snapped, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

"You shouldn't have this technology, how did you…" the Doctor started, then his gaze focused in on Hermione's wand, "Ohhh, that's how. Psychic energy manipulators. Of course you would be able to harness that sort of evolutionary technique, but you wouldn't have enough psychic energy on your own to make it."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then nodded and turned to Harry, "That pepper-up potion please?"

"Right," Harry murmured, moving around one of the tent walls and into the kitchen area. "It's just in here."

"Amy," Hermione started, then she hesitated. The ginger had straightened up and squared her shoulders, as if she was ready to take a hurdle or a verbal lashing. It reminded her so much of Ron. She bit her lip and blinked a few times to keep the tears at bay. "You can stay in my bed for the night, if you two are staying. I'm sure that Harry will show the Doctor to his bed."

Her words were stiff and wavering, as if she wasn't entirely sure she wanted them there at all. But they weren't hostile and they seemed just as confused as they were about this situation. Not to mention how callous and rude she was to them earlier, even if it was easier to just push the blame off onto the horcrux around her neck.

"Actually, we were just planning on sleeping in the TARDIS." Amy said uneasily, "Thank you though."

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction, then she nodded, "Alright, well, goodbye then."

"Here's that potion, the label was a bit hard on the eyes, 'Mione." Harry mock scolded.

"Not my fault you can't read properly," She took the potion and swallowed a mouth full, then capped it. She grimaced. "Tastes terrible."

Harry smirked, then looked at the Doctor with a questioning look—then shook his head. Whatever he wanted to ask didn't matter. Not right now at least.

"Well, goodbye, Harry Potter," the Doctor said, putting his hands on the young man's shoulders, then looking at the witch, "Hermione Granger," She turned to look at him, "Good luck to the both of you."

Then he walked out of the tent, Amy on his heals as she waved to the pair. Then she grabbed the Doctor's arm, "What in the—I thought we were going to help them!"

"They obviously don't need our help, Amy," the Doctor shrugged as he pulled out his key to the TARDIS and pulled the door open, "Come along, Pond."

Amy glanced back at the tent. Hermione was already sitting outside the tent with her wand in hand, her shrewd eyes watching the time travelers leave.

With another awkward wave, Amy disappeared into the TARDIS. Then looked to the Doctor, "Where to?"

That's when the TARDIS gave a mighty shake and tossed both of them around the room. The cloister bell ringing along with a mauve alert. They hardly had any time to process anything.

Especially the image of Harry and Hermione running from a small group dressed in black robes on the monitor.


End file.
